


Visiting

by hangonsilvergirl



Series: A Heart Made Fullmetal [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangonsilvergirl/pseuds/hangonsilvergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You two are like a pair of puppies fighting over an old sock. This is either going to end in lifelong romance, or you’re going to kill one another."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visiting

As far as being antagonistic went, Ed Elric figured he had the capacity to be one of the most annoying people on the planet. He knew for a fact that there was an infinite list of friends and acquaintances (and probably perfect strangers too) who would agree with such a sentiment without needing context. Ed was hotheaded. He was stubborn. He’d always employed an ostentatious sort of intensity well ahead of anything resembling discretion, and the result, more often than not, knocked him on his ass. This situation was no different. It had started over the phone with a mild disagreement blossoming into a full-fledged shouting match over what was considered reasonable behavior for maintaining friendships. It was ending, to Ed’s chagrin, with unwanted houseguests. Unwanted on Ed’s part, that is. Al and Winry, and even Granny, seemed pretty well over the moon. Ed really didn’t see the appeal in hosting a three-ring circus, but it also wasn’t his house, and despite the fact that the suggestion had been made to _him_ , in the end it hadn’t been his call. (He hadn’t been told he’d have to give up his own bed yet either, so there was that. Though he had no idea where the hell they were going to put everybody.)

When the arranged day arrived, Granny set to task like a drill sergeant, assigning duties with well-honed experience and clipped impatience, narrowing her eyes at Ed everywhere he went. By late morning, she’d safely stowed him outside—he grumbled and frowned as he hunted down eggs and pruned begonias—while she, Al and Winry put the rest of the house to rights. Ed had been permitted to shower at 3 o’clock (the train would be there at 4), and when he descended the stairs, towel-drying his hair, he found Granny and Winry slaving away over food. Al, who’d been a little too overzealous in airing out spare room sheets, was having a nap.  
  
Apparently that left the responsibility of guest-fetching to _Ed_.  
  
“ _Seriously_?” he whined, rolling his eyes and restraining his feet from stomping temperamentally. Winry sighed impatiently. “What? I didn’t want them here in the first place, why the hell should I have to play welcome wagon?”  
  
Granny set her steely gaze upon him, but Winry beat her to raging.  
  
“Oh, _clam it_ ,” she said irritably. She was rolling out pie dough on the flowered table top, and probably a little more aggressively than was necessary. “Stop pretending like you don’t care about them, or like this is some _huge_ burden for you to bear! You haven’t seen them since just after the Promised Day! I just don’t understand how you can be so _bothered_ by having someone stay with us who _you talk to on the phone every week_!”  
  
“That’s different!”  
  
“For God’s sake, Edward, _how_? I swear that you just pick the opposite of sensible behavior in _any_ instance and… Ugh! You embody it _just_ to be annoying, don’t you? Do you _like_ concussions? Is this reflective of your inner masochist? Because I’ll throw my damn wrench with _gusto_ if it means you’ll _stop arguing for the sake of arguing_.”  
  
“FINE! _Fine_! I’ll go smile and wave for Colonel Assface. Happy now? For the love of _shit_.” Winry sighed again as Ed began pulling his hair back into a ponytail. “ _Masochist_ , she says,” he muttered, heading to the coat closet by the front door. Loudly he called back to the kitchen: “Like I get off on having bruises between my eyes! If I’m a masochist then you’re a fucking sadist!”  
  
“Oh, shut up, Ed, and _leave_ already!”  
  
“I pity any children the two of you have,” Granny said near-mournfully, leaning against the kitchen door frame, watching Ed cram on his boots in a huff. “They’re gonna grow up thinking that being emotionally stunted and physically stunted go hand-in-hand. What a terrible thing to subject the world to.”  
  
“Like you’ve got the right to talk about anybody’s size, you knee-high old bat,” Ed snapped, his left eye twitching. “And I’m taller than Winry now, aren’t I? So, whatever!”  
  
“Whatever, indeed,” Granny said quietly, bemused. “Play nice now, runt.”  
  
Ed responded with an obscene gesture that make Granny laugh heartily, then he called out to Winry. “I better get two pieces of pie for this!”  
  
“Only if you’re not a dick! Love you!”  
  
“Love you too.” To his credit, only the tips of Ed’s ears went pink at the exchange, but that didn’t stop Granny’s laugh from backsliding into a chortle.  
  
Ed ignored her and headed outside, though he did hear her say to Winry, as he shut the door: “You two are like a pair of puppies fighting over an old sock. This is either going to end in lifelong romance, or you’re going to kill one another.”  
  
Winry replied, with the air of someone resigned to her fate (causing Ed to involuntarily smile): “I don’t see why we can’t manage both.”  
  
***  
  
It was late spring, inching into summer. The ground was soft and muddy, so Ed sludged a bit as he made his way toward the train station, pulling his white hoodie tight against him as cool wind blew in spurts. He wasn’t really grumbling that much any more; a big part of him was actually excited to have Mustang and some of his old team in Resembool for a few days (not that he’d ever admit that to them or to Winry, or even to himself out loud). They’d be headed out to Ishval soon to supervise some of the preliminary organizing for the rebuilding process. It was sure to be a huge undertaking; the paperwork to put things in motion _alone_ sounded to Ed like it had probably been a year-long headache; he’d heard enough about it second-hand to be completely and utterly sick of it. He really admired their dedication, though, and Mustang and Hawkeye’s in particular. It took a lot of balls to face that sort of reality with determination and commitment, ceding, unflappable to their own mistakes; Ed really, truly believed that someday he’d pay up those 520 cenz to his former superior officer. Whatever else happened… well. He supposed that depended on Roy, and on the world.  
  
He beat the train to the station, and so parked himself on a bench to wait, staring out at the green flatness of Resembool, thinking noncommittally about uncertain futures, Winry, and his age.  
  
Four minutes past when it was scheduled to arrive, the inbound train from Central City came chugging along, it’s grey and white smoke billowing against the bright, blue country sky. Ed pulled himself to his feet, surveying the small crowd of disembarking passengers. He spotted them—Mustang, Hawkeye with Black Hayate, Breda, Havoc and Fuery—and ignored how weird it was to see them all out of military blue wool and in civilian clothes. Not, he supposed, that it would’ve made any sense to go on a holiday of sorts in uniform, and not that Ed hadn’t seen them all in regular clothing before. He grinned, with signature shit-disturbing indulgence (to hide his honest pleasure), crossing his arms.  
  
“Fullmetal,” Mustang said upon seeing him, smile quirking to a smirk. “You look as brazen as ever. Has a year in the idyllic countryside not softened your obstinance?”  
  
“I dunno,” Ed answered as he was clapped on the back by Breda and Havoc—”Hey chief,” said Havoc, who was smiling wide and walking with a cane, smelling, as always, like an ashtray; Breda had a mouthful of sandwich, and looked like he might want to nap for a couple of years—nodding toward Hawkeye. “Are you still taking credit for all the work she does for you?”  
  
Mustang laughed and Hawkeye rolled her eyes, pulling Edward into a hug he wasn’t quite prepared for. Mustang shook his hand (which was weirdly perfunctory) and so did Fuery, who then lead Hayate off the platform to find no shortage of greenery on which to pee.  
  
“Well, we better get going,” Ed said, only a little awkwardly; after so many years of approaching every interaction with Mustang with annoyance and aggression, Ed had no idea how to be cordial. “Winry and Granny have cooked enough to feed the entire fucking military, so I hope you’re all hungry.”  
  
Breda moaned happily through the rest of his sandwich. “ _Home cooking_ ,” he said thickly and reverently, and then Ed started leading the way home.  
  
“It’s good of you to have us, Edward,” Hawkeye said, and Ed tried unsuccessfully to shrug it off.  
  
“It’s nothing. Wasn’t my idea, anyway,” he said. “Al was just so gung ho, you know? Hard to say no when he gets something in his head, especially if he gets Winry on his side… I mean, she’d find a way to slug her wrench to the moon if he asked her to.”  
  
“Not that you didn’t try to argue,” Mustang commented idly.  
  
“Yeah, well, gotta keep up appearances, I wouldn’t want you all to think I’ve gone soft in my retirement,” Ed said, mostly indifferent, but a little annoyed. “I still think you’re a jackass, for the record.”  
  
“That’s all right, Fullmetal, I still think you’re emotionally and physically stunted,” Mustang replied, and to credit of either his maturity or willpower (or to the fact that he’d had the exact same phrasing directed at him earlier in the day), Ed’s only immediate reaction was to twitch and pull a face.  
  
“Sir, don’t antagonize our host,” Hawkeye said with some exasperation, stopping another comment that had been forming on Mustang’s lips. Instead she redirected the conversation by asking about Alphonse’s recovery, which lead into what they’d like to do as group while in the area, which, mostly, amounted to answers of ‘as little as humanly possible’ if not expressly stated then very much implied. Ed felt weird and yet oddly at home in the center of the group, having missed the way Mustang’s team bounced off of one another, if not the stuffy confines of bullshit military service. Freedom… freedom from expectation and guilt and _anger_ , well. It was stupidly _blissful_. It didn’t mean there weren’t some decent people in service.  
  
“Tell me,” Mustang said, interrupting the companionable silence that had fallen around them as they neared their destination, the old house rising into their view. Ed turned his head expectantly. The Colonel was sporting a smirk to rival the smarmiest of Ed’s own. “How are you and the lovely Miss Rockbell doing?” Havoc started sniggering. “Will our stay be suffused with your romantic tension? Or have you worked up the courage to hold her hand yet?”  
  
Ed snorted. Den had met them all on the path, where she and Hayate exchanged butt sniffs and tail wags before running off into the grass together with unadulterated doggy joy. Winry, whose ears might’ve been burning, came out onto the upstairs deck with Al; both called out to the group and waved enthusiastically. This only seemed to further encourage Mustang, who looked expectant and smug. Ed looked at Winry, then back, smiled slyly at Mustang, and then said, “Wouldn’t you like to know, you fucking _pervert_.”  
  
Ed laughed at the Colonel’s narrowed eyes, thoroughly enjoying his momentary upper hand. If that was the best Mustang had to try to rile him—outdated short jokes and _very_ incorrect insinuations about his love life—then he was in for a very disappointing trip.  
  
“Are you behaving yourself?” Winry called to him reprovingly as they finally reached the house, frowning at his undoubtedly pleased-looking face. Al had come downstairs and met everyone at the door with hugs and laughs and a buzz of chatter that delighted Ed in its complete and utter normalcy. Ed gestured to the crowd surrounding his brother and shrugged, for lack of anything better to say. Nobody was bleeding. Yet. A week was a long time, sure, but, hey: So far, so good.

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally a Tumblr prompt](http://hangonsilvergirl.tumblr.com/post/104391931789/if-youre-still-taking-prompts-how-about-a-time).


End file.
